


The World that he Wanted

by Dragonnova



Series: Family Happens [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Depression, Gen, Multi, Panic Attacks, fluffy stuff too, implied stockholm syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonnova/pseuds/Dragonnova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Psii is slipping into one of his 'battleship moments', when life and this world prove to be too much too soon. On some strange level he wishes he could escape from the flesh cage he has been thrown back into, but there are some new people in his life that just might be able to help keep him grounded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World that he Wanted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Short little ficlette because I needed to write, and Psii seemed to be a willing subject. I don't think there's anything triggery in this, but keep in mind that there is vague mentions of past trauma from Psii's time as the Helmsman. As well as implied stockholm syndrome (I don't go into details) and a lot of depression and angst.  
> Technically this should come before "A Lesson in Cultural Blunders" since it's the first time Psii has met Dirk 'officially' (not counting when Dirk had to step in for him at the beginning.)

‘After the game had ended,’ such a strange phrase; it didn’t seem real, it didn’t carry the exultant impact that it should have.

 _The game_.

Those two little words were an insult.  When had it _ever_ been a game? It was almost like those two simple words would stick in the back of your throat if you tried to utter them; they would gag you, choke you, and they would die before you could give them life.

Your name, well it doesn’t matter anymore.  You have not been called by your real name in so long you figure if someone ever did call for you by that title you wouldn’t realize they were addressing you.  You are the Psiioniic.  You have been the Psiioniic for so very long now.

You had suffered, pulled yourself up from your horrible life of servitude and stepped forward to stand beside the only man who had dared to question the laws of Alternian society.  Not just a man, this wasn’t just any ordinary troll we’re talking about.  This man was your friend, and you would have been willing to die beside him for his cause; for peace, for the unity of the world.  You would have died to help him achieve this. 

You ended up living.

You became a mighty flagship, the driving force behind her Imperious Condescension’s reach into the galaxies. You were her destructive strength that carried her toward the empire’s glorious expansion.  You were the destroyer of worlds.  You were the white hoofbeast that carried forth death through the endless stars.

She loved you.

You wished for death, but lived because she willed it.  They should have had life, but they died because she willed it.

Now here you are, the Psiioniic, the rebel, the heart of the flagship, the destroyer - standing in the middle of an apartment complex lobby holding a box filled with coffee and other ‘essentials’ from the store in your arms.  Yes, standing there like some sort of lost bleatbeast without a clue as to why you were here.

You _really_ hated it when this happened.

The smaller psionic, your descendant, darted past you and clipped your elbow with his small shoulder.  The boy seemed oblivious to the fact that he had even done so, turning instead with an unsettled look on his face to flip a double handed rude gesture at the little highblood that was still yelling at him from the entry.  When the highblood heiress walked through the doorway, you moved without even knowing where your feet were taking you; practically flattening against the wall, your gaze clipping away from her to focus on some stain on the carpet near your feet.

Her voice was bubbly, reprimanding the other highblood but there was this gentle underlying tone of kindness.  You couldn’t hear her words over the buzzing in your ears, the din in your mind twisting her gentle resonances into something cold and piercing.  You could feel _her_ cold fingers on the side of your face, a gentle caress that chilled you to your very core.  But then you realized it was not _her_ , _she_ was not touching you; it was the feeling of her little heiress staring at you as she passed and your own mind conjuring a beloved dayterror. You didn’t dare to raise your eyes to meet hers.  Not while you were struggling with one of your _fits_. You couldn’t let them know how much you struggled with being around her, how it killed a part of your soul every time she laughed.

It was a mistake; you shouldn’t have gone out today.  You shouldn’t have left the safety of your hive.  This was just too much too soon.

You were alone now; the children had cleared out, most likely to settle into their shared hive next to yours.  You were supposed to do the same.  You should be preparing your hive for your friends.  Most likely their visit was not to catch up on how things are going lately, but to check on you and make sure you weren’t still a mess of nerves and screaming terror. 

You were supposed to – you should be going up the stairs or getting into the lift – not slowly sliding down the wall, hugging the box closer until the edges began to buckle, wrinkling as the cardboard walls gave beneath your vice like grip.

A game - A dream. 

Everyone is here, everyone is fine. 

The game is over, our fight is won.  Then why?

Why, why, why?

Why did you feel so lost and alone? 

Why do you feel like this existence is the dream?  You should be dead. 

“I _should_ be dead.”

“Takes a bit to get used to, huh?” A voice cut into the haze of your mind, entirely too close for comfort.  Your reaction was instantaneous but luckily your control had not waned in the least.  The spark of your psionics flared between your horns, crackling outward with vengeance at first but the energy died before it could fully explode at the intruder.  The wall caught the brunt of the electric burn but the damage was certainly minimal.

“F-Forgive me!” You sputtered, clutching at the box and folding yourself in over the top of it as though you simply wanted to curl into a tight ball and block out the world.  You could feel the tension now coiling so deeply it nearly radiated from your body as clearly as the blue and red electricity that had crackled around you moments before. “I was – I didn’t…” you were stammering now, fighting to form the words.

Dirk Strider had raised an eyebrow up enough to be visible above the sharp edge of his shades.  But other than that he seemed relatively unfazed by nearly getting his head ripped off his shoulders by a psychic blast.

“It’s cool,” Dirk said, “My own fault for sneaking up on you, man.”

You looked up at him, your mouth working as though you wanted to say something, but words failed you completely.

“Name’s Strider, Dirk Strider,” he said and put his hand out towards you and just hung there in the air waiting expectantly.

You stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, and extremely awkward and long moment that was stretching into too long.  Something in the back of your mind fired off with ‘human greeting customs to show they are unarmed and friendly, return gesture.’  You managed to get your hand into Dirk’s and mumbled, “I am the Psiioniic.”

Dirk squeezed your hand firmly which you somehow were able to return the force despite your state, he gave your hand a quick shake before releasing it and plopping down next to you with a huff. “The Psiioniic?  That’s actually your name?  I thought it was some kind of title.  Like an ability or something.  Like the little skinny kiddo, he’s a psionic right?”

“Yes,” you answered.  “Sollux is also a psionic; it is a designation of our abilities. It is also what I have been called for –" the words cut off on you for a moment, your vision danced around anywhere except on the human.  You finally stared down at your mangled box and muttered, “A- a very long time.”

“Fair enough,” Dirk said with a shrug.

“Excuse me, Mr. Strider, I should…”

“Whoa - dude, no,” Dirk raised his hands silencing you before you could continue, you blinked at him in bewilderment. 

“Call me bro, call me Dirk, call me ‘hey-you’ for all I care but Mr. Strider has got to go.  I ain’t that old, man,” He finished, his back thumping against the wall when he leaned back suddenly.

A faint upward twist in the corner of your mouth betrayed your amusement, but it was quick to retreat.  “Dirk, then.”

“So yeah - and I’m callin’ you Psii because, I’m sorry, but THE PSIIONIIC sounds like we’re talking about a car or something.”

“Fair enough,” You mimicked Dirk’s words; the smile was threatening to come back, causing the corner of your mouth to twitch upwards.

Dirk stood up, dusting off his butt as he stepped away, “So – yeah. If ya need anything my kid bro and I are on the 4th floor.  Gimme a buzz if you guys need anything at all, doesn’t matter what or when.  Even if you just need a beer and a place to escape for a bit.  After the crap we’ve been through we need to stick together and look out for each other.  We’re all like family now, man.”

You pulled yourself to your feet as well, still keeping your back to the wall and clutching the box to your chest. “Your offer is appreciated, but we will be fine.”

“A’right, bro.” Dirk shrugged again shoving his hands into his pockets and then walked away.

You didn’t make a move until Dirk was gone for a few minutes, and then you hugged the box close and shakily walked away from the wall.  Your legs felt strangely like jelly, and your grip slipped a little on the box.  You could feel your hands trembling, fingers twitching against the cardboard.  But yet there was warmth in your chest, a pleasant feeling that was gently easing the tremors and pulling you back to your senses.

“Humans…” You sighed as you walked over to the elevator and stood there listening to it tick off the flights as it drew closer to the ground floor.

They are social creatures, with a strange familial structure.  Now Alternians were being expected to follow suit.  To draw close together, love each other with a strange quadrantless sort of affection, to live together in this new and unfamiliar peace.

Will our people really be able to do this?

Is this what the Signless wanted?

The elevator doors opened and Sollux was just about to step out but flinched back and blinked owlishly up over his glasses when he saw you standing right there in the doorway.  “Hey, whoa, I thought you were having one of your battleship moments.”

You tilted your head, eyebrows knitting together quizzically, “Battleship moments?”

“Aw, dang,” Sollux slapped a hand to his forehead and groaned.  “I didn’t mean it like that.  That was uh… rude.  I didn’t - I mean you know… one of your post traumatic things.  We did too much today around a bunch of douchebags? You got all triggered or something.”

The smaller troll hesitantly reached out to hook his hands around your elbow and pull you into the elevator.  You followed his gentle lead with little resistance and a pleasant smile slapped stupidly across your face, “I’m okay.”

“Really?  I thought that you like needed a while to come down from one of those, uh…”

“I don’t know, battleship moments sounds kind of badass, I like it.” Your grin widened.

“Yeah?”  Sollux laughed yet seemed to be honestly bewildered.  He must not have been as oblivious as you had thought when he had bumped into you earlier.  It must have worried him enough to bring him back to retrieve you from the lobby.

“Yeah,” you said with a chuckle. 

You shifted the small crumpled box to one arm, reaching out to run your fingers through Sollux’s hair.  The gesture startled the younger troll right at first; he flinched, momentarily taken aback.  But then he relaxed, melting into the gentle pressure against the back of his head until he had his face buried in your shirt and his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. 

This was the strangest thing either of you had ever done.  It was not natural.  Adult trolls should not hold any sort of affection for their descendants; they should never have been able to know who their offspring were in the first place.  In turn, troll children were normally terrified of adults, young ones were skittish within their presence despite the fact that they naturally had a great admiration for their ancestors.

This was not normal.

But it was right.

It was exactly what you both needed, and that nameless warmth that had started twisting in your chest earlier had now spread. Whatever it was, it was able to fight back the horrible memories, the day terrors that still haunted the edges of your mind, and it seemed more powerful than any force known to Earth or Alternia.  It felt right, and the two of you needed it more than you had ever dreamed.

“Thank you, Sollux,” you whispered while gently rubbing small circles against his horn and listening to the boy – your boy – purring softly.

Yes, this is the world that the Signless wanted.

 

**Author's Note:**

> One of these days I swear I will write Sollux as the snarky geeky little hacker we all know and love. But I kinda needed some fluff in my life. ~Mmmm Captor fluff.


End file.
